The moment seemed to stretch, and Catriona felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Alastair’s eyes were beautiful up close, and the sounds of the Loch and its wildlife seemed to fade into the background. Catriona pressed her hands to Alastair’s chest, unsure whether she wanted to push him away or pull him closer. It was frightening, how much she wanted this moment to go on forever.
Alastair was not pulling away, nor was he making any move to get closer. He was leaving the choice up to her, and Catriona found herself torn with indecision. This moment felt pivotal; if she pushed forward, they would have to deal with whatever came, with facing down Isobel and Margaret and John, for whom this wedding was just as important for the continued wellbeing of Clan Grant. If she pulled away, she would be breaking not only Alastair’s heart, but her own.
The choice over what to do was taken out of her hands when there was familiar yell of her name over the sounds suddenly rushing back.
Catriona pulled away from Alastair, terrified, and looked over his shoulder to see Lady Sutherland striding down the beach, her expression a picture of fury.
Alastair stiffened next to her, and stepped away, but Catriona wasn’t looking at him, and didn’t know what expression he had on his face.
“Catriona,” Margaret said again, voice loud in the darkness. “How dare ye do this!”
“Me Lady–“
“Silence!” Margaret stormed up to her, and Catriona’s chest seized. Every awful moment with Isobel could never match up to the temper her stepmother could display. She had never outright hurt Catriona, but that didn’t mean Catriona couldn’t see the want in her eyes, or the way her fingers twitched by her sides. “Ye will get back to the castle immediately, and I will speak to ye about this tomorrow. I am furious.”
“Yes,” Catriona said, stuttering as she bobbed around Margaret. Her stepmother’s eyes burned into the back of her head as she raced down the beach, unable to look back at Alastair. Tears burned in her eyes, and the fear only increased the closer she got to the castle, and the further away from him she was.
Chapter 11
Reluctance
Alastair woke with a smile on his face.
Though he hoped he would be able to speak with Catriona soon after breakfast, aware of Lady Sutherland’s mood, he did not doubt that it would be a good meeting.
Something would have to be done, he would have to meet with Margaret. Decisions had to be made eventually, but Alastair hoped he would be given the chance to explore what the night before had meant to Catriona. He knew what it meant to him.
Dressing seemed to take an age that morning as if every moment that drew him closer to Catriona was dragging itself out just to spite him. The castle was already alive, people going about their business, and the sounds of horses on the stone outside of his window. Before Catriona had made him pause and appreciate the surrounding things, Alastair would not have considered the sounds and smells of his castle as important.
Now, he could not help but note everything, from the laughter of some servants out in the corridor, to the yells of stable hands and men at arms in the courtyard.
Broken from his reverie by a knock on the door, Alastair tugged on his tunic and called for whoever it was to enter.
“Guid mornin, Sir.” The door opened to reveal a balding man in his fifties, coming to the later end of his life, and looking the worse for it. His paunchy stature suited a servant of the castle though Alastair knew he had been in battle under his father’s flag. Hamish, loyal and trustworthy to a fault, was standing in the doorway with an air of regret. “You have a letter.”
Alastair frowned, not understanding why this would be a cause of distress. “Who is it from?”
“I dinnae ken,” Hamish admitted. He held it out, hand shaking. “It was left for me this morning.”
Alastair could see the notepaper was some from his own household, and he wondered who would be writing to him from within the castle. Taking the letter, Alastair thanked Hamish. “Could ye please let everyone ken I may be late for breakfast.”
“Aye,” Hamish said, and left the room quietly, shutting the door behind him.
Alastair was grateful. Whatever this letter contained, and given Hamish’s demeanor, it didn’t promise goodness, he wanted to read it in private.
Tearing into the envelope with his father’s letter opener, Alastair tugged the letter out. The writing was cursive though rudimentary at best. Someone not as well educated as they could have been, but nonetheless had been taught their letters and how to construct a letter.
Alastair, it began, and Alastair noted the familiar term. I apologize that I am sending this in a letter, but as I hope ye’ll understand as ye continue to read, this was nae a meeting I could have face to face. I must leave Grant Castle. I cannae stay here after what happened between us last night.
Alastair paused. It was obvious, even without looking at the signature at the bottom of the letter, that this was written by Catriona. He thought back to their meeting last night, the sunset, the Loch, the moment that might have become something more given time. Now this, something he couldn’t fathom.
I do not love ye. I need ye to believe me when I say this. It could never be. Merri Isobel. She will make a wonderful wife, and ye will be a kind and noble Laird to whom any man would pledge a lifetime of service. I hope ye understaun me decision, and if ye do not, that ye respect it. Yours, Catriona.
Curling the letter up in his fist, Alastair stared out of the window, trying to calm his racing heart. This was not the first time he had faced a broken heart, but perhaps this was the worst. He had known Catriona for such a short time, but every moment was heavy with so much meaning, that it was as though they had known each other for a lifetime.
The prospect of losing her, of losing the chance to get to know her better, was heart-breaking. Marry Isobel. Alastair closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. He could do that, he would do that, for the betterment of his Castle and his Clan, but he did not have to like it. Now that he had Catriona as a standard, it would be hard for Isobel to live up to. Catriona saw the beauty in such simple things, such as the Loch and the creatures and the land. Catriona loved Scotland. Alastair did not know what it was that Isobel loved, but perhaps now he would have to learn.
Chapter 12
The Loss
Catriona was terrified.
Lady Sutherland had been livid when they had returned to the castle, and she had followed Catriona back to her room. Expecting a blow, Catriona should have known better. Margaret utilized an oppressive silence to her benefit. They stood on opposite sides of Catriona’s room, Margaret’s back to the door, cutting off any escape Catriona might have made.
She knew better.
Clenching her hands into fists, Catriona dug deep for any bravery she might still possess. She had tried for years to fight the misery and hurt that Margaret and Isobel both laid at her feet. For the most part, she was successful, but there were times when it became too much.
“Lady Sutherland–“
“Silence,” Margaret snapped. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and her expression was almost placid. It was worse than any signs of anger would have been. “Have ye any idea how important this wedding between Alastair and Isobel is for the Clan?”
“Whose?” Catriona said before her strength could fail her.
Taking two steps forward, Margaret seemed to loom over Catriona. “Yer clan died the day yer faither died without naming ye heir.”
Catriona bit her tongue. She was the heir, but it would do her no good to shout that now, not when there was nobody else to hear. Whatever information may still exist naming her as the heir had disappeared shortly after her father’s death. “Twas innocent.”
“There was nothing there,” Margaret said, dismissive. She touched a hand to her chin, contemplating Catriona silently for a moment. “I am sending ye away.”
“Lady Sutherland,” Catriona said before she could stop herself. When she had been forced to come on th
e trip, she could not have imagined wanting to stay, but she had been given that one precious moment with Alastair, and she was being forbidden from discovering how well they would have worked together. The one small thing she had allowed herself in years was about to be taken from her. “Please.”
“The decision is made.” Margaret smiled, though it was anything but kind. “I’ll have ye escorted away in the mornin. Make yer peace, bairn, for ye shall not be seeing this castle again.”
Without waiting for a response, Margaret turned on her heel and left the room, slamming the door behind her. Catriona sank immediately to her knees, pressing a hand to her mouth. She would be sent home, forced to stay there. Though it meant not having to be Isobel’s maid anymore, Catriona could not bear the thought of having Alastair so close and not being able to see him.
Home was beautiful and held such a vast amount of her heart that seeing it again would do her good though she hoped fervently that if Margaret would not change her mine—for she had never done so before—then perhaps Alastair would fight for her.
She did not know how long she knelt there, but as darkness flooded her room, the door abruptly opened, startling Catriona back to her feet.
Margaret had returned, but this time she had Robert in tow. Clenched in Robert’s hand was some paper and a pen.
“Ye are to write a letter,” Margaret said. “Ye will tell Laird Grant that ye dinnae wish to see him again.”
“Nae,” Catriona said, though she shrank back from the look Robert gave her. “Please.”
“Ye’ll write it,” Robert said, shoving the paper and pen at her. “And ye’ll tell him that he should merri Isobel.”
Robert had never struck her, nor had he been particularly harsh with her. His grip was occasionally too tight, but Catriona had suffered worse from people with less reason to dislike her. It was his bearing she was afraid of, the way he would loom over her, the promise of darkness in his eyes.
“If ye are never to come here again,” Margaret said smoothly, “I see nae reason for ye not to write this letter.”
Catriona wasn’t going to leave this room without writing a letter. She knew that with certainty, and so she slid onto her bed, taking the pen with trembling fingers. Margaret began to dictate the letter, and Catriona wrote slowly, trying not to give in to the tears welling in her eyes. She would not give either of them the satisfaction of seeing her pain, though in private, she would grieve.
Chapter 13
A Land as Bright
Alastair watched Catriona leave that afternoon.
He had not seen her, nor had he given in to calls from Margaret and Isobel both that he see them. Instead, he had given Hamish and John strict instructions that things go ahead as planned, and that he would be in his room. He had no explanations for them and was grateful that neither had asked for one. He did not know how he would have been able to put any of the thoughts currently plaguing his mind into an order that would satisfy them.
There was an entourage of three people currently saddling up the horses outside of his window: Catriona, and two Clan Sutherland men at arms. Alastair was surprised that she had not been sent along alone, she was a servant after all, but there were clearly reasons.
Catriona looked small and afraid as she sat on her horse, head bowed under its hood. Alastair did not care to see whether there were others there to see her off. He could only watch her party until they disappeared over the horizon.
Understanding her decision was difficult, but he was going to have to move on with his life. It would mean choosing whether to take her advice of marrying Isobel, or to disregard it and wonder at a life that could have been.
A marriage to Clan Sutherland still had the safety and protection that he needed for his people but given a taste of what loving someone was like, knowing that Catriona was still alive and elsewhere, he did not know how he could ever settle for Isobel.
Before, he would have taken his father’s counsel on the matter, but he did not have that ability anymore. Having known his father so well, Alastair knew very well what his father would have wished for him. First and foremost was the Clan and what was best for them.
Marriage then, would have been his course of action, and it would have to be Alastair’s.
Clutching the edge of the windowsill, Alastair let himself take in the Loch and the lands surrounding his castle. It may not be as bright and forgiving as it had been when his heart had been light and full, but it was his home and he would do what he needed to make sure that it flourished, however difficult.
Chapter 14
A Life of Service
When the two guards accompanying her took a detour on their way back to the castle, Catriona thought nothing of it. They had more knowledge about the lay of the land than she, and she assumed they were trying to find the way of least conflict.
It was raining, and she kept low to her horse, buried under her hooded cloak, attempting to keep out of the rain. She had made it herself not long after she had turned eighteen, a gift to herself that she had pretended could have been from her father if he had been alive, though it was a shadow of the gifts he had bestowed on her when he was alive.
Her fingers were freezing and stiff around the reins of her horse. Even her eyes were starting to sting from the biting rain, and later she would wonder if the weather had not been so terrible, if she would have spotted their destination sooner.
As it was, they were almost on top of the nunnery before she saw it, looming over her like a prison.
“Why are we here?” The words seemed to die almost as soon as she spoke them.
Next to her, one of the guards gave her an unimpressed look. Catriona had not seen him before, so a MacNeil then. “We have orders. You’re to be left here.”
Margaret’s plan was obvious; Catriona would never again see her home.
“Dinnae worry,” the other guard said. And though his words sounded harsh, there was something kind about his face. “We made sure it was a guid one. Ye’ll be well cared for.”
“I’ll be forgotten about,” Catriona said, almost to herself.
“Ye could run,” the MacNeil guard told her with a nasty smile. “Might make it more interesting.”
The other guard gave him a severe look but didn’t contradict him.
Catriona contemplated running. It would do no good; they would kill her before she made it far, and for all that a life of a nun was horrifying and isolating in equal measure, she did not want to die. There had to be a way out of this. Closing her eyes, she let the guards lead her up towards the nunnery. Silently she begged for someone, anyone, to hear her cry and help her.
How had her life spiraled so far out of control? Part of her wished that she had never met Alastair. All of this would not be happening if Margaret had not chosen him as a suitor for Isobel.
It was fleeting at best, Catriona knowing in her heart that she could no more be angry at Alastair than she could at herself. Even those fleeting moments with him, the love she had only just began to cultivate in her heart, was perhaps worth the pain she would endure here.
Time would tell.
Chapter 15
Lies and Truths
The wedding was not a large affair, but the castle seemed altogether too busy for Hamish. He was a simple man with simple pleasures, and the Grant Clan had been a good fit for him. He had been a young lad when he came to work for Hugh, the previous Laird Grant, and they had grown side by side. Hamish had never been jealous of Hugh’s position in the household and had been more than happy to serve in the castle.
Alastair was not everything his father had been, but given time, he would be a great Laird, and Hamish was only too happy to see him change. Often, Alastair would ask for his opinion, though Hamish did not contemplate how often that advice was followed. Still, the fact that he was asked did wonders for both Hamish’s self-esteem, and his position in the young Laird’s eye.
It was for this very reason that when Hamish passed by the young Lady Isobel’
s rooms; he was startled to hear the conversation going on within.
Hamish could never be accused of snooping, and so he was about to walk away when the words registered.
“–have sent her to a convent.”
“Mother,” the voice sounded like Lady Isobel. “Are ye mad?”
“Who will think to look for her there?” Margaret’s voice was distinctive, and though Hamish could not see her face, he pictured the cruel smile on her face. “She would have ruined my plans. Alastair will marry you.”
Indignant on Alastair’s behalf, Hamish stepped closer to the wall, out of sight from anyone in the room but close enough that he could still hear. He kept his eyes on the corridor, content that he would see someone coming before getting caught snooping.
“The marriage would go ahead, anyway.”
“Ye cannae ken that,” Margaret snapped, and there was the sound of something slamming. “I spent years being treated like dirt at the hands of yer father. If anyone learns who she is–“
“The door, Mother,” Isobel started, and Hamish took his leave, afraid that he would be found.
As soon as he had disappeared around the corner, he paused, wondering what Lady Sutherland had meant by who the servant was. Hamish was not a fool; he had eyes enough to know that Alastair had taken to one of the servants. The only one who had caused such vitriol in Lady Sutherland and Isobel while they had been in residence at the castle was the same one.
There was precious little time before the wedding was to take place, and before Hamish went to Alastair with his suspicions, he needed to find out where the servant girl had been taken—and who she may have been.
The benefit of being a servant in castles like those of the Grant and Sutherland clans, was that a lot of gossip took place between everyone working there. Most of it was fluff, things that could be broken down into a few truths. It was one of these that Hamish was after.
He knew where the guards of the Sutherland contingent were being housed and spoke to the servants who had been tasked with helping the Sutherland servants integrate and find everything they needed. Thankfully, there were enough loose lips after a glass of whisky that Hamish knew exactly who had taken the serving girl—Catriona, as he learned quickly.
The Highlander & the Unlikely Heir_Scottish Highland Romance Page 4
